Ripples
by Mutant Melee
Summary: What had once been a multiverse had suddenly collapsed into itself. Worlds which had once been only transparently connected were suddenly and inexplicably merged. But how stable would this new universal alignment be? Turtles Forever 'verse.
1. The Crystal Palace :: Part 1 of 2 ::

This is a joint-effort among writers who are keen in developing supporting/minor characters in their own interpretations. And while this is an interpretive work, all involved have done their absolute best to keep their characters as canon as possible.

The following events in this story are portrayed chronologically two weeks after Turtles Forever.

**Katmandu** is a canon character from the Archie-verse. He is half man and half tiger; a massive beast, nearly seven feet tall, with rippling muscles. He carries four arms on his torso like the Hindu deity Shiva. He has large teeth and claws and is most often found in his metal adornments: golden tunic, neck brace, and steeple hat.

**Nano** is a canon character from the 2k3 cartoon series. He is a sentient robot made up of billions of microscopic machines that are capable of self-replication and manipulating mechanical parts. Here, he is depicted as being mature than he was in his previous incarnations and is a full-fledged member of the Justice Force.

Please refer to our profile page to learn more about the story plot and the other characters involved.

Thanks much for your support and I hope you'd enjoy the story as much as we enjoy writing it!

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Scene 1: The Crystal Palace

While alone in this spiritual refuge with only the good memories of the past to support him, it didn't feel like so long ago since he held a dear friend, his teacher, Charlie Llama, in his massive arms to feel that last breath as it escaped and faded away into yet another reincarnation.

He looked about the simple structure and felt a certain amount of nostalgia settling back in.

"I miss you, Old Friend," his voice whispered within the slightly vacant monastery. The very air as he breathed, felt inviting beyond anything he had known before. It smelled like home.

Katmandu _was_ home.

Sighing, he slid his right leg up and rested his foot against his thigh. His two upper arms bent themselves over his head and met in the middle, palms pressed against one another while the remaining limbs below the first pair bent themselves and held their thumb tips to their finger tips.

He then closed his eyes to fall back into meditation.

For a moment, it was only the wind through the chimes which spoke back to him. Then his ears flickered and he could hear something, some other presence, obscuring the crystal clarity of the monastery. At first he believed that it was perhaps the Monkey Monks which served the Charlie Llama before his passing but Katmandu had known better. They now catered to the whims of the reincarnation of Charlie, a small child, and would not be back at the Crystal Palace until the baby had his moment of enlightenment and accepted his re-birthed destiny.

Katmandu should have been alone in this place.

This other presence, however, was unavoidable. He had sensed something strange, unlike anything else that had been allowed entry to the sacred meditation area. Lowering his four arms, he grabbed his club and slowly made his way through the shadows.

"Who enters this sacred place?" Katmandu growled in his native language, his blue eyes glaring deeply at the one who had gained entry.

The sound of laser weapons on standby mode beeped softly in the background as the visitor stood poised with two glowing eyes staring in the direction of Katmandu's voice in the dark.

"I apologise for my sudden intrusion," the visitor spoke in Nepali in an obvious, mechanical tone. "This is the first and only monastery I have seen since I arrived here. But I have not come to cause any trouble. I only wish to seek answers—from the Dalai Lama himself."

Katmandu couldn't believe his eyes. The visitor was definitely something that stuck out in the placid settings of Nepal and the Crystal Palace. And the fact it was metallic and unnatural-looking could attribute to the sense of not belonging yet he was not sure. Something else seemed amiss.

The four-armed tiger merely cocked his head to the side as he naively stepped forward into the light, further brandishing the metallic creature's large and puzzling body structure. He crossed his lower arms over his abdomen and frowned.

"I am sorry to inform you that the Charlie Llama as you seek is no longer in the form he was in," he sighed, a deep crease forming over his eyes at the thought. While Katmandu was a large creature, it was clear to see that the simple statement touched something deep within. "He passed from this incarnation into his next. The new Charlie Llama is...incapable of leading anyone to any answers in his current state. And as the sworn protector of his mortal vessel, I cannot even tell you where the child is."

Katmandu narrowed his eyes. "I also hope you realise how suspicious it is to me that you would be asking such a question, especially when Whirling Dervishes and other assassins have been so numerous in Nepal as of late."

"I was met with no such threat," answered the robot, his green optics growing brighter as they scanned over the large tiger-man. "My sources have told me that the Dalai Lama has returned to Nepal—"

Katmandu emitted a throaty, heartfelt laugh. "I believe your sources were mistaken in calling Charlie this..."Dalai Lama". His name is Charlie, I would know. I was with him in his last days."

The robot tilted his head in confusion. "I do not understand this."

Placing the hands of his upper limbs on his hips, Katmandu shook his head with a smirk. He looked suddenly kinder and happier, with rounded features more softened and a certain excited gleam in his blue eyes like a curious kitten. For some reason, the green-eyed robot had reminded him of a child's soul; of the turtle-friends he had encountered on his last journey to the Crystal Palace.

"In Buddhism we believe that a soul is carried from one mortal vessel to the next, that death is merely the passage way to a new life and new opportunities. When one is very good and receives good karma in life, their next life is closer to Nirvana: or heaven. Likewise, bad karma leads to a new life that is farther from Nirvana. The Charlie Llama is the reincarnation of the Buddha who has forsaken Nirvana in order to teach the rest of us how to attain it."

Smiling to himself, Katmandu thought back to the benevolent spiritual leader. "Charlie was...is a good soul. He is a knowledgeable and patient father and the best of friends. When he has returned to a position where he is aware of his former lives, I hope you and I both shall have the pleasure of knowing him. I wish fervently for that day."

If only the tiger knew the many "deaths" he had been through to attain his own sense of belonging in a world unappreciative of sentient machines like him.

Despite the confusion, the very mention of this revered teacher named, "Charlie Llama" had certainly piqued the robot's interest.

"What is your name?" Katmandu asked, while wondering why the strange, metallic creature was so fluent in Nepali. "Have you come from the city?"

The robot was silent for a moment, before answering, "Nano."

He then broke his gaze from Katmandu to look around the monastery. "I have come from a place much farther from here. The people in my city have suffered too long under an unbearable heat spell. There is only one person who could help us find a place of refuge. And the Lama I seek knows where it is."

Pressing the palm of his mechanical hand against the aging wall of the monastery, Nano began to realise that perhaps, the other Nepal he was looking for was gone. Perhaps the nanites, while still in the process of recuperation from the intense heat wave in New York, were conjuring up visions of false hope to compensate for his struggles, replacing a world he had lost with something familiar. But this place, this alternate world of Nepal, with its people and the four-armed tiger who had spoken so highly of a teacher named "Charlie Llama" seemed so surreal to him.

Nano feared this was a mirage he could not escape from.

If there was no Lama to seek answers from, how was he to find the way to a place untouched by Mother Nature's wrath?

"We're too late," he said, before turning to look in the direction of the monastery's entrance where a series of mini-cyclones were racing towards them.

"It is the Whirling Dervishes!" Katmandu roared, his voice of a man becoming inexplicably woven with the bellow of a beast. "They caused the early ascension of my closest friend and now they are here to destroy the last standing testament to the Llama's teachings! I will not stand for this!"

Katmandu ran past Nano, forgetting he even existed, and grabbed from the corner a sword and another club, leaving only one of his four limbs free to catch the spinning blades of the mystic murderers. He then made his way back through the hall, passing Nano and looking over his shoulder only for a moment to look into the robot's eyes.

"Creature, if you would assist me against my most bitter enemies—the enemies of this most sacred place—then you shall have my immortal thanks and, in my eyes, be my blood brother," he stated before taking out through the doorway.


	2. The Crystal Palace :: Part 2 of 2 ::

The Dervishes had always had reason to fear Katmandu. He was a fierce guardian of their enemy who was none other than the peace-preaching Charlie Llama. And it was because of him that they knew a certain amount of damage would come about to their team. But their residing in the dark arts, so opposite of the Zen Mysticism that was practiced in the Crystal Palace, had led to many advantages for them—many which Katmandu's trained calm was tested by.

Nano had sensed these ethereal, dark entities through the electromagnetic waves and low frequencies he received since the day he began trekking up the winding mountain paths in search of the Dalai Lama's hideout. These mystic assassins were neither heat nor cold; neither living nor dead. Merely cursed souls that fed on the fears of life forms made of flesh and blood. And while never knowing the true nature of fear, the robot was not a stranger to loss and sadness. He could easily recognise the pain lingering behind the tiger's eyes.

That was when Nano came to realise that he had not stumbled upon the monastery by chance. Perhaps this was a test; a way to earn the guardian's trust and guidance. This offer of friendship sworn in the name of immortal enemies could be the key to finding what he was looking for.

"_You are not able to comprehend what treasures of the soul I protect!"_ Katmandu roared, as he caught hold of one of the whirling assassins' blades with his claws. The tiger's four arms worked masterfully alongside one another for both blocking his enemies' attacks as well as retaliating with his own.

Before the Dervishes could guess what was coming, the mighty Beast of Kathmandu flung one of the assassins off like an ant. He raked his sword across the blades of the remaining Dervishes and planted a strong kick to the one on the left, knocking him away. The other stumbled back without the opposing force.

_"You protect nothing but a hollow shell!"_ the remaining Dervish retorted in Tibetan. _"We know that you have no Turtles to assist you like last time."_

He then summoned the winds around them, forcing Katmandu to rock back and forth uneasily while attempting to tear the tiger's massive body apart.

Katmandu blindly stabbed his weapons through the torrents, hoping to either land his mark or block the advancing assassin's attack against him.

While he was incapacitated, two of the then freed Dervishes raced into the Crystal Palace before coming to a stop while nearly halfway in. They looked around, utterly confused by its quiet openness.

_"The new Llama is not here!"_ shouted one of the Dervishes.

The other one was more observant. Glancing about the surroundings, he began to notice some strange, golden mass taking over and absorbing objects and materials around the monastery.

_"What is that?"_ he demanded, drawing his weapon alongside the other Dervish.

_"It is a trap!"_ they cried out before slashing their weapons against the suddenly metallic palace. They tore into the building as fast as they could only to find that it was not breakable by their man-made weapons and it blocked them from the outside winds their whirling magic relied upon.

From the outside, it looked as though a shimmering cloak had been thrown over the rundown Crystal Palace. The nanites brimmed over and spread throughout the holy ground outside the monastery, sneaking their way beneath the tiger's feet before crawling up his legs and arms to reach the weapons of the Whirling Dervishes.

"By the gods?" Katmandu questioned before looking down, his eyes widened in shock. Some mass of golden creatures were crawling up him, causing his face to pale in terror.

What sort of negative karma could lead to this fate? It felt as though thousands upon thousands of spiders were crawling up his body. Was this more magic by the Dervishes? Or was he truly suffering from the fates?!

Oddly enough, the creatures did not harm him and instead, crawled from his feet to his arms and weapons where they then consumed the metal of the Whirling Dervishes' weapons like locust consuming a field. Katmandu was shocked beyond response, as were the Dervishes who were so intimidated by the event that they dropped their spell over the winds and backed away.

_"The Buddhist's magic is a kind I have not seen before!"_ one Dervish determined before looking to his leader.

He was more concerned with the fact that the same force had surrounded the monastery and closed off the other members of their group. He narrowed his eyes and summoned the winds beneath his feet again.

_"The reincarnation of the Charlie Llama is not here. We leave. I know where he must be."_

Without another word, the Dervishes took off into the air and disappeared within their cyclonic forms across the channel from the Crystal Palace.

"No!" Katmandu roared as he attempted to move, only to stop in superstitious fear of the surrounding creatures. "Black magic, be off of me! Those Dervishes are heading to Kathmandu to murder the Charlie Llama! I cannot stand here because of you or any other mortal threats!"

The nanites retreated to their robot form before releasing a wave of electromagnetic pulse throughout. Despite his already weakened state, it seemed like the only effective defense in getting rid of supernatural entities that might still be lurking within the sacred monastery. Nano dropped to his knees. His optics had begun to flicker as he cast a forlorn gaze at the tiger and said, "Your world, and my world are in great danger. Must find...Shangri-La."

Then the lights of the robot's eyes went out completely, his once golden, metallic form was now a lifeless pile of scrap metal prostrating after the four-armed tiger.

"You have earned my trust," Katmandu said gently as he bent over to scoop up the contraption with his lower arms.

"Unfortunately, we cannot stay in the sanctuary of the Crystal Palace, _Gelug-pa_. The reincarnation of my dearest friend is in danger. I know where he resides in Kathmandu and before anything else, I must protect him," he continued to explain while clutching the unconscious, and newly nicknamed robot closer to him.

Katmandu smiled.

"I also believe that he could help you find the Shangri-La you are looking for!"

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A/N: _Gelug-pa_ is known as the Yellow Hat sect, a school of Buddhism founded by a Tibetan religious leader. I guess Katmandu thought it was an appropriate nickname for Nano since he was so yellow and shiny. XD


	3. New York Burning ::Part 1::

At this point, the black and white world of Turtle Prime has inexplicably merged with the world of our beloved "multi-coloured headbanded turtles". While most are left stranded in other dimensions, some are left behind with memories of unfamiliar faces, places and experiences. Characters involved in this scene are:

**Radical** (_Mirage comics_): A super heroine whose attire consists of a white spandex outfit which as been ordained on the arms and boots with red arrows, very much like traditional Native American warpaint. By day, she is known as Dr. Raven Shadowheart who works as an anthropologist for the Museum of Natural History's Native American exhibits. While she was not seen again until Issue 41 of the second volume of _Tales of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_, it is revealed to turtle fans that Radical and Leonardo are deeply entwined in genuine romance, claiming not only to be lovers, but soul mates.

**Splinter** (_Mirage comics_): Unlike his other incarnations, Splinter has a much darker personality in the Mirage comics. While compassionate and protective of his loved ones, he is also capable of holding grudges against his enemies for a very long time: he raised and trained the Turtles in the shadows of his own grief as he patiently waited for the day when they would be ready to avenge the death of his beloved Master Yoshi.  
Splinter has always been an inspirational figure to his adopted turtle-sons and also, April O'Neil who, in the comics, looks up to him as a father. And she, as his daughter.

**Michelangelo** (_2k3 cartoon_): While maintaining his happy disposition, Mike has no doubt evolved as can be seen in his interactions with the Super Heroes of the Justice Force as well as his own brothers. Not that this character development should be overestimated, mind you. He's still Mikey. Oh, and for the record: He's the Battle Nexus Champion. Also, some new surroundings and faces are strangely familiar to him. It's almost as if he is remembering things from another life time...

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Scene 2: New York Burning

It was one thing after a long night's flight and patrolling the polluted, gloomy air of New York City, but it was an entirely different thing when you flew into your window—your _own_ window—to get some rest and find out that some strangely, brightly-coloured family were suddenly in your bed, sleeping on some gaudy getup.

"Get the hell out of my apartment!" Radical yelled.

"No—_you_ get out!" a voice fought back.

Despite this, she made her way to her landlord only to realise that somehow, in the past six hours, he had had a sex change, lost weight and height, and forgot everything about her.

When _he_ (who was now a_ she_) decided to call the police complaining about a strange, monochromatic woman trespassing into the apartment, Radical simply responded, "I am a _Native American_!" and flung herself out the window only to discover that, yet again, the winds were flailing her about like a paper bag.

The Native American super heroine was completely out of her element.

It had never happened to her before in the past few years of taking the mantle of the _Wakinyan Tanka, _the thunder bird. It took much diligence and training, yes, but eventually she had mastered all the elements of the earth: plants, water, air, rock—they all obeyed her commands. The thunderclouds themselves would pour for her.

Now her energy was drained. It was not like when she was surrounded by man-made objects and could not come in contact with the elements, but it was as if the elements had not been the ones she had known at all.

The city had suddenly felt more enclosed, more polluted, and its bright colours and bizarrely mismatched landscapes were hurting her tone adjusted eyes.

In this alien world, Radical had quickly found herself having absolutely no possessions to her name, and no place to go.

Swallowing, Dr. Raven Shadowheart, hiding her white spandex uniform beneath an overcoat she found in the trash, looked up to the sign above the door. "Second Time Around?" she questioned before sighing. "I guess I can't be too picky. Let's just hope that advertisement for rooms for rent is still good..."

--

Michelangelo groaned and rolled out of his bed, finding it damp with the hazy dew. He could have sworn he was sweating by that point.

The heat was unbearable. He couldn't even believe that he was still in his room.

And those weird dreams he had that night: they were all about him, his brothers, other people and creatures...

Everyone looked so familiar yet so foreign. If he saw them while he was awake he would have never recognised them but there, in his dreams, they felt right. They felt like his friends.

"Hey, is anyone awake?" Mike said as he came through the Lair and looked around curiously. "Let's get some air-conditioning in here!"

"Michel--" heaved a voice. "Michelangelo!"

It was his father and he sounded raspy, like his voice had been squeezed through a grinder.

Mike panicked.

It was frightfully similar to how his father sounded in their final battle with the Utrom Shredder, when there was no hope for escape. The very thought sent tremors down his shell as he clamoured towards the origin of Splinter's voice.

"Master Splinter!?" he called out in horror before coming across a section of the Lair.

It was smoldering, like someone had turned a furnace on in its area and left the flame to consume everything and everyone in its path. It nearly made his eyelids shrink up at the sheer heat.

He came to a stop, not taken back by the heat, but by the black and white mass that was huddled where the heat was the worst. It looked like a giant black rat.

But that didn't make any sense!

Master Splinter had always been a grey rat.

"Sensei?" Michelangelo questioned in genuine confusion. "You're...you're black."

Under any normal circumstances Mike would have leapt all over an opportunity like that. It was a statement that seemed to seethe with jokes on its own, but he could not pay attention to that at a time like this.

Of all the imposters, robots, and clones that he and his brothers had spent their time facing, one would have thought that Michelangelo would have been more cautious when approaching the black rat Master. However, something within Mike knew it was okay.

Despite his own mental image of Splinter, Mike knew that this monochromatic creature was Splinter, albeit a much sharper and heavily blotted one. And Mike felt like he had known _this_ Splinter his entire life.

He quickly knelt down and threw one of his father's arms over his shoulders. "Don't worry, Sensei, I'll get you over to the kitchen's fan!"

With that, the turtle-son began to move the elderly father towards the room across the hall, his eyes continuously shifting over Splinter's body, checking him just in case.

The old rat looked almost like he came out of another world. A _very_ familiar world.


	4. New York Burning ::Part 2::

Splinter had never seen a home so blessed with such material comforts before.

The place seemed familiar though it was much hotter and a lot more...pretentious-looking with its high-tech facilities, spaciousness and indescribable cleanliness.

He didn't know how he had ended up in the rising heat of this colourful realm. All he remembered was going on an early morning stroll and spending time with nature in the Northampton woods.

To the turtle's great dismay, rushing into the kitchen was not enough to escape the heat. The fans they had put up in the city's heat wave were enough to make the room somewhat less sultry than the rest of the Lair, particularly where Splinter had been, but it did not keep Mike from feeling like his mouth was arid.

Michelangelo raced to the refrigerator and opened up its doors, only to realise that there was no cool air; only the smell of spoilt foods and sour milk.

He crinkled his beak at the blast of fermenting aromas and slammed the doors shut.

In fact, had he not known any better, he would have thought that the Lair was getting hotter by the minute. But that was impossible, at least naturally impossible it was.

Sure, the city was suffering from a tumultuous heat wave but to think that it was rising so exponentially was terrifying.

"Where are your brothers?" the old rat whispered while feeling too disoriented to even utter a word of thanks. He felt the cool air blowing in his face though it wasn't enough to soothe his troubled mind and heart.

"The others?" he asked before turning back to the black rat and tilting his head to the side. "While that's a very good question, Sensei, I kinda have to ask: when you ask about my brothers do you mean _my_ brothers or the four lean, mean, uhm black and white machines you know? Because I'm kinda confused. I mean...you're Splinter but you're not...my Splinter. Or are you?" he rubbed his head.

He knew he should have been taking this situation a little less in stride but currently, Michelangelo's only thought was on the fact that it was _so damn hot!_

Swallowing, the turtle let out a strange, inhuman noise and shook his head. It almost felt like his tongue was caught in his throat. The air was so thick from its humidity he felt his lungs rejecting the hot gas that came into them.

"This couldn't possibly get any worse!" he moaned just before all the lights and other electrical appliances went out.

"Of course," he muttered, with an unseen scowl on his face and a cross of his arms.

The fan was off, the power was off, the fridge—while it had admittedly done little to help to begin with—was dead and Mike had the sickening feeling that they were about to smother in their own home.

Oh, what delicious irony. The only place in the world they were supposed to genuinely feel safe in and if they didn't get out of it soon they were probably going to be buried in it.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Impossible," uttered the old rat.

Blinking, Mike turned and looked at his father. He stared at the staff in Splinter's hand and felt a strange feeling of nostalgia. Oh, yes. He knew what that was.

Having been distracted by the suffocating heat earlier, Splinter hadn't the slightest chance to even notice that the staff in his hand was not the one he was accustomed to. It was much heavier, sturdy, and was certainly _not_ made of wood.

It was none other than Lord Simultaneous' Time Sceptre!

"Master Splinter? Uh... well, _someone's_ Master Splinter?" he said before pointing at the object. "Where did you get that? Because I have the bad feeling that it's probably not supposed to be here."

Slowly, however, an idea unveiled itself to Michelangelo. "Wait a minute...I think we can use this to get us—_and whoever else's still in here_—out of the Lair. It's kinda like a magic staff!"

Splinter was finding it hard to focus in this situation where his aging, mutant body was deteriorating beneath the sweltering pressure. His mind was filled with so many questions but he had neither the stamina nor patience to keep up with it any longer.

"Michelangelo--" he said, between laboured breaths. "If you believe you so, then..."

The artifact was shoved onto Mike before he could even think to respond.

"Use it!"

Mike hadn't wanted the responsibility for himself, that was for sure. He was hoping to rely on his Master, or, well, some _other_ version of his Master. After all, the whole mystic side to ninja kick-butt fighting and what not was almost always something that Master Splinter took upon himself. Only on rare occasions would the mantle be handed to Leonardo but almost _never_ would it be entrusted to him.

Sure Mike was the Battle Nexus Champion but that was just a physical title!

Wasn't it?

He didn't get long to think on it, though, as Splinter suddenly fell to the ground in a sweaty mass. Michelangelo was stunned. His father had passed out in the pressure cooker of a Lair!

"Master Splinter!" he shouted before shaking his head. He immediately regretted the outburst for he suddenly found himself dizzy and disoriented. Was he to succumb to the heat, too?

He looked to the Time Sceptre.

"If you can't stand the heat," he muttered before swallowing dryly, "then get outta the kitchen!"

Closing his eyes, Michelangelo clutched to the sceptre and bit his lip.

It had to work. It just had to work!

The blue light grew, consuming their bodies.

Across the Lair, even Klunk found himself enveloped in the cooling light of Lord Simultaneous' Time Sceptre and dipped into a glowing chasm which was to take them far from the Lair and the burning city...


End file.
